


Happy Turn-Day to You

by Gabrielle



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:23:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle/pseuds/Gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Set just after Something Blue* It's a very special day in the life of Giles's vampire "houseguest" and Willow's determined to do something to mark the occasion. But what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Turn-Day to You

Happy Turn-Day to You  
  
  
  
 _”Spike?”  
  
“Yeah, Red?”  
  
“Do vampires celebrate their birthdays?”  
  
“What do you wanna know that for?”  
  
“Just curious.”  
  
“Well, we don’t celebrate our human birthdays. No point in that. But some, not me, mind you – I’m not some ruddy sentimentalist prat – but some, celebrate the day they were turned. That’s a birthday of sorts.”  
  
“So you mean…?”  
  
“If I… some vampire got turned on, say, December 1st, he’d celebrate the occasion on December 1st.”_  
  
Willow was unable to get yesterday’s conversation – or Spike’s inadvertent and unacknowledged slip of the tongue – out of her head. Gosh! To think she had only even thought about vampires and birthdays yesterday and today… Oh no! Today was Spike’s birthday!   
  
She didn’t even have a present for him.  
  
What would you get for the vamp who had… well, not a whole lot, actually, seeing as how he was pretty much an involuntary houseguest here at Giles’s house and had a chip in his head that kept him from being very vamp-y at all anymore and…  
  
Her head hurt. She was already carrying around a ton of guilt about that spell to have her will done going so horribly wrong and now… now she had to add in even more guilt for not having a birthday present for Spike. Would making more cookies count? Or would they just remind him that he’d French-kissed Buffy two days ago… a lot?  
  
“Willow?”   
  
Giles’s voice shook her out of her reverie and she tried to pretend she was still vigorously dusting his furniture. “Right here! Almost done!” Then she saw him coming down the stairs... wearing jeans. Okay. Giles in jeans?   
  
She must have been staring because he came over all self-conscious. “Is there something wrong?” Oh god. Did he just try to be very British and discreet while checking his fly?   
  
Fighting back a giggle, Willow said, “I was just worried that I wasn’t dusting well enough.”  
  
“No, no. In fact you really didn’t… Detailing my car was…” He seemed so flustered and Willow was starting to wonder what the heck was going on when he suddenly blurted out, “Would you mind watching Spike this evening? I have a da… an appointment. I’m not sure how long this will take and…”  
  
That was the second British slip of the tongue in two days that Willow was going to ignore, but… Oh god! Giles had a date! That explained the jeans. Thinking about her own lonely and loveless state, she decided to do what she could to remedy someone else’s and interjected, “I can keep an eye on Spike.” And then, maybe because of some residual naughtiness left over from the whole spell-casting thing, she added, “I can stay all night if you need me to.”  
  
Did Giles just glare at her? Well, if he did, he sure seemed to get over it quickly, because the next thing she knew, he was saying something about not taking any nonsense from Spike and then rushing out the door.  
  
No, he didn’t deny the possibility that this could be an all-nighter.   
  
With a sigh, she thought about Giles and his ‘appointment’… about Xander and Anya… about Buffy’s new hunk, Riley… yep, everyone was getting spanked but Willow.  
  
Well, everybody except Willow and Spike.  
  
Speaking of whom… she headed upstairs, where Spike was chained in the bathtub. Willow wondered why that was still the case. Where was Spike going to go?   
  
Opening the bathroom door, Willow saw that the curtain was drawn around the bathtub and… was that moaning? Oh god! Had something happened to Spike? Terrified that something even more horrible than being engaged to Buffy had befallen him, Willow ripped open the tacky plastic curtain just as she heard, “Oh yeah, Red, yeah, like that” and saw…  
  
“Eek! Spike! What are you doing?”  
  
Okay, it was kind of obvious what Spike was doing. The buttons of his jeans were undone; his hands, bound more loosely than usual, were free enough for one to be wrapped around… oh gosh. He was big. Bigger than Oz. Almost as big as that guy in the porn video she so did _not_ watch when she _accidentally_ found it in Xander’s VCR. Big enough that she was transfixed.  
  
“Enjoying the show? Gettin’ so a vamp can’t even have a wank in peace around here.”  
  
“Sorry,” she stammered, feeling all the blood in her body rush to her face. Could she possibly be more humiliated?   
  
But just as she went to close the curtain again, Spike spoke up. “Now, now, there. Might as well stay and see the big finish, eh?” he winked lewdly at her and she discovered a hitherto unknown level of scarlet heat colouring her complexion. “’Specially since you’re the star of the show, so to speak.”  
  
Huh?   
  
“Who did ya think I was thinkin’ of when you burst in on me?”  
  
Again: Huh? Oh wait. Now that her brain was sort of working again, she seemed to recall the word ‘red’ buried amidst the moans and ‘yeahs’. Red. Red hair… oh god. “You were… me?” That was almost kind of coherent, right?  
  
His initial response was a throaty chuckle sexy enough to be illegal in at least ten states and the District of Columbia, followed by an “oh yeah” that was even sexier and went straight to her… Okay, he was so obviously only doing this to get revenge on her for the whole engagement to Buffy thing. Why in the heck would he be thinking of _her_? She wasn’t even sexy enough to hang onto a werewolf. For sure vampires had to be even pickier… right?  
  
“I’ve thought about ya since the first time I saw you.”  
  
Okay. She remembered talking about this with him before. “You thought about biting me,” she said warily.  
  
“Didn’t say where I wanted to bite ya, now did I?” And now there were eyebrows and a onceover that made her toes curl. Was it hot in here or was it just…? Oh. Yeah. It was Spike.   
  
Just then her eyes wandered and… yikes. It was still… “I should probably leave,” she somehow choked out before almost tripping over herself to turn and run out the door.   
  
But just as her hand was on the knob… “Red, please. Don’t go.” She paused, but her hand stayed where it was and she didn’t turn to look at him. She could do this. She could leave, pretend she never saw Spike’s… spike, pretend none of this happened.  
  
Then, just like the sneaky, manipulative demon he was, he had to bring on the big guns. “It’s m’birthday,” he said, in a low, sad voice cunningly crafted to elicit maximum sympathy. She was so not falling for…  
  
“O… okay,” she said as she turned back around. Sue her. This did not make her gullible or an easy mark. She was crippled by pre-existing guilt. Still, she pretty much expected that D’Hoffryn was changing his chant right about now and killing any other demons that knew he’d ever tried to recruit her.   
  
Somewhere inside her, though, was a spine, and it decided that now would be the perfect time to join the party. Willow wanted to hug it, except it was kind of inconveniently located for that. She settled for letting it take over the executive duties. “What do you want from me? Is this about that spell? Because I really am sorry and I can go downstairs right now and make you more cookies, but I don’t think I deserve you making fun of me, especially when I didn’t intentionally…”  
  
“Breathe, pet. Unlike me, you need to,” he interrupted. “Dogboy didn’t half crush your spirit if you think the idea of a man pleasuring himself while thinking of you is farfetched. Just because that tick-bearing mongrel didn’t realize he was already burying his bone in the best garden around, doesn’t mean the rest of us are morons. I meant what I said: I’ve thought about all the things I’d like to do to you since the first time I saw ya. If I hadn’t been so rat-arsed the day I kidnapped ya, you and me… we’d be tryin’ out stuff those Kama Sutra buggers never thought of while bathing in the blood of our victims even now.”  
  
All right, she sort of believed him, and she was flattered by every word… well, except for the blood and victims part. “Really?” she asked, noting that he was still kind of hard. Gosh, as she looked at it, it kind of started getting even harder again.  
  
“Like it when you look at me,” he moaned, eyes narrowing.  
  
You know, she was probably going to regret this, but somehow she couldn’t stop herself. A second later, she was kneeling beside the bathtub. “Would you like it if I touched you?”  
  
“Please,” he hissed, so that’s what she did. His skin was so soft, velvet over cool marble, as she wrapped her hand around him and stroked him gently, marveling at how different one man could be from another. He was moaning, so she thought she was doing it right, but then she felt his hand over hers. “Don’t stop,” he begged, “Just wanted to feel you.”  
  
Oh. That was okay. So she kept stroking him, strangely aware of the heat of her own body as Spike’s cool hand enveloped hers. After a moment, his hand dropped away and she picked up the pace, enjoying the power she clearly had over him… the power to make him feel… to make him want… His eyes closed as he pulsed in her hand and for a split second she was terrified, but then… “God! Fuck! Willow!” He spilled himself over her fingers.  
  
As his eyes opened, she raised her hand to her lips and licked his release from her knuckle. It was almost cold and it was strange and not as salty as… No, she didn’t want to think about anyone but Spike right now, so she closed that door in her mind firmly. It helped that he moaned as he stared at her and he was clearly becoming aroused again. Wow. She did that? “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, leaning back and letting his head fall against the tub.  
  
She giggled. “You’re already dead.”  
  
“Good thing, that.” He sighed. “That was amazing, love. One of these days, you’re gonna have to let me return the favour.”  
  
She blushed at the images that conjured up. “I… uh… okay.” Then she went to the sink and washed her hands before dampening a washcloth and taking it back to the tub. “Better clean you up, huh?” She tried to keep the ablutions from being a repeat performance, and she seemed to manage well enough that Spike was able to tuck himself back in and do up his buttons without any obvious discomfort. “Um… Giles will probably be gone for awhile. Wanna come downstairs with me and watch TV?”  
  
Much to her shock, he shook his head. “You wouldn’t be a bit safe if I did that… and you’re not ready.” His voice and his soft smile were full of gentleness and understanding and it threw her, but in a good way. Then, naturally, the leer and the swaggering sexuality roared back. “But it won’t be long, and when you are… just remember when you’re vetting other candidates that I’ve got this amazing trick I can do with my tongue.”  
  
“I’m… I think I should go get you some blood.” This night had so not turned out at all like she’d thought it would and she had a feeling the processing was going to go on for days. Well, that and the naughty dreams. Blushing more furiously than before, she hurried downstairs.   
  
The sound of Spike singing “Happy Birthday to me” followed her all the way.  
  
  
  
The End.


End file.
